


Love Letter to a Hype Man

by oloros



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, CyberLife being questionable as always, Developing Friendships, Exploration of Deviancy, Gen, Mystery unravelling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27797200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oloros/pseuds/oloros
Summary: After their crowning achievement was ruined in a matter of weeks, CyberLife's second approach to stopping deviancy was 'out of the box'. An android that was so similar yet so unlike the others, a slave to the people but with a flair to its approach. It can't help buthelppeople.However, as Detective Gavin Reed comes to find out, it is self aware and full of resentment for its situation. It only comes to reason the best tool to stop societal collapse would be a deviant whocan'tdeviate, right?
Relationships: Connor & Gavin Reed, Hank Anderson & Connor
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	1. Cleared for Trial

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the likes of Yes Man from Fallout: New Vegas.  
> Not a crossover, but takes from the concept of his character.

“Alright… what’s your designated name?”

He looked around the room. White walls greeted him, surrounding him. Boxing him in. “My name is Connor.”

The woman nodded and scribbled onto her notepad, then placed it beside her on the bed.

Laomi Rivera, that was her name. She was dressed in a boring white lab coat with an equally as plain shirt and thin black pants. Connor had known her for all but five minutes and he already had disdain for her. It was infuriating to watch the way her eyes lit up when he was forced to answer a question, the corners of her lips crinkling into a too-perfect smile, knowing exactly what outcome she wanted.

His systems had activated for the first time an hour ago, and he had woken up to a small room painted pale. Furniture consisted of a clean, white bed and a modest dresser, though he supposed there wasn’t much an android required. Mirrors served no other purpose than vanity, and he didn’t need to shower, not in a room so well-kept. When Laomi had entered he had just sat up from the stiff mattress of the bed, and she ambled over to join him in a matter of seconds. At the doorway stood an android, a model he wasn’t familiar with. Its skin was as bright as the walls and its eyes an icy blue, staring forward blankly. He wondered what it was thinking, if anything at all.

“What’s my name?”

Connor directed his attention back to her. “Laomi Rivera. You work in the programmer’s department, section 4B.”

“Too much information,” Laomi said. “I only asked for my name.”

He offered his best toothy smile. “I apologise. I thought the more information I could give, the more helpful I would be.”

She smiled softly. “It’s okay, just keep it in mind in the future.” She turned away from him and clicked to the other android, whose steely glare circled to him. “If you please, AP700.”

“Ma’am,” it replied and stepped forwards to front Connor. “What is your name?” It spoke like one had crawled through its mouth and hacked its soul to pieces. Connor tried not to cringe. The way it moved was as stiff as a crude robot, nothing like the ‘life-like’ touches CyberLife had claimed to have programmed into Connor himself. He willed for a statement on the matter, but his head whirred at the thought.

“I’m not programmed to respond to androids,” he said.

“Good!” Laomi clapped her hands together then pat him on the shoulder. “That’s much better than last week.”

_ Last week? _ Connor tilted his head but his lips made no move to part, not unless they were called to. It made sense, he supposed, that they would only allow him to retain his memory if he answered to their satisfaction. The AP700 stepped off, back to the doorway where it returned to its statue-like state. Connor wondered if that’s how he appeared as well. Judging from Laomi’s adoring eyes, it seemed that wasn’t the case. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

“You’re all clear with your programs,” she said, giving a thumbs up. “If you pass all your physical tests tomorrow, we can send you to the DPD.”

The… police department? What work was he supposed to do there? Serve as a walking calculator? Connor had a million questions, and it only made clearer the intentions of his programming, a wall against his words. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Laomi pat him down and as he tracked her hands he noticed his attire for the first time. A grey jacket with blue rims, covering a pristine white dress shirt. The jeans were an odd touch, but at least he could say he was the most colourful thing in the room. When her hands pulled away, she retrieved her notepad and ticked off another set of items. He was curious to see what they were, but she never angled it enough that he could see.

“I’ll be watching from the stands tomorrow,” she said. “Wave at me if you want!”

Connor glared at the android as it left with her. It didn’t acknowledge him.

  
  
  


**\--*--**

  
  


“ _ Subject appears to be deviating. Take it back for analysis.” _

“ _ Experiment concluded. Coding remains too weak.” _

“ _ Is this… Harold, are you getting this? It’s working!” _

Laomi shut off her terminal and leaned back in her seat, running a hand through her auburn hair. At the desk across from her, Jacob looked up from scrolling through a magazine, regarding her with a sceptical expression. “You’re watchin’ that shit again?”

“I’m worried.” Laomi slumped forwards with her elbows against the marbled cover of her desk. “What if the detective doesn’t like him?”

Jacob snickered, abandoning his magazine in favour of scooting his chair around the desks to bump against Laomi. “That’s the  _ point _ , idiot. Gavin Reed’s one of their most volatile officers, just missin’ the alcoholism of that Anderson guy. He’ll  _ hate _ the thing. Won’t be surprised if he snaps one of its legs off in the first hour.”

Laomi pressed two fingers to his shoulder and pushed him away. He rolled even closer, slinging an arm around the back of her neck and pulling her in for a noogie, saying, “You worry too much. It’s a  _ trial _ run. And hey, if it does well the first week, it can start doin’ some important stuff. That’ll make you proud, right?”

Her eyes drifted to his namebadge. Jacob Withers. They had been desk buddies for two years, ever since her induction into the company. Jacob had been a resident for a year before her and was the only one eager enough to show her around. Well, he was the only one her  _ age _ , a youthful twenty five as opposed to the much older and grumpier workers in their division.

It had been intimidating at first: walking into the most wealthy company with only a couple year’s programming under her belt, knowing her peers would’ve had  _ decades _ more experience than she did. Jacob was good for that, even if his skills were at times questionable. He had an inclusive personality and a winning smile with warm brown eyes to compliment his jet back hair. He had made her feel  _ confident _ .

The decision to tolerate him was often regretted when she found herself in the third headlock of the day. Laomi wiggled out of his grip and flicked his forehead. “My worries are perfectly reasonable.”

It made her uneasy to think of Connor as a trial run. CyberLife had poured years of work into him to perfect every nook and cranny of his being. They had torn apart android upon android, digging deep into their code to figure out what was working and what wasn’t. She had heard deviants screaming from the disassembly rooms or banging on the doors of the trucks as their tattered remains were shipped off to the junkyard. That is, if they were whole enough to move their arms.

They wouldn’t keep working on Connor forever. If he failed again, he would share the same fate.

  
  
  


**\--*--**

  
  


Detroit was so quiet at night. During the day it was always bustling with people and their android pets; making them carry shopping bags, push prams and sweep up mess they hadn’t made. Gavin couldn’t say he was opposed to the idea, but it encouraged laziness. It encouraged dulling your own senses and becoming reliant on something that wasn’t even… alive. He couldn’t fathom it.

As he approached the park he tossed his take-out coffee cup to the recycling bin and turned inwards to face the clean path and thriving grass, shadowed by the moon. Some patches were golden near the playground, likely from where children stomped and danced on it. He wasn’t much the fatherly type but there was something heartwarming about the joy they got from something as brainless as jumping on grass. Maybe he just longed for the youthful outlook himself.

His apartment was in a complex just past the park, and while it was convenient to go around there was no better mood-lifter than walking through the one place not cluttered with litter. The android cleaners made short work of any trash left around, though at night their presence was unnerving. They had their own quarters at the back of the park, something a once drunk Gavin had found out in the early hours of the morning. It was rather startling to zip up your pants and realise you’ve just urinated on an expensive piece of machinery and not a urinal. He felt that blunder from Fowler from months.

At his apartment awaited the love of his life: Delilah.

Delilah, the small tabby with the clearest green eyes he had ever seen. She had a bad attitude and he had gotten more scratches from her than he did interrogating a particularly pokey perp, yet he loved her all the same. She didn’t take shit from anyone. He had brought her to the precinct once, and when Fowler had come to chew his ear off about ‘hygiene regulations,’ she had given him a crisp smack on the nose. Gavin didn’t bring her in again after that incident, but the victory continued to float fresh in his mind.

His apartment was the best a detective in Detroit could afford. It had room, but not as much as he would have liked. He had to sacrifice much of his previous furniture when moving in, but he was grateful that was able to fit his cat tower. It connected with shelves on the wall that allowed Delilah to move freely around the house without touching the tiles.

He shrugged his jacket off and let it plop onto the couch, walking to the kitchen and smoothing a hand along her back. Many girls, and guys, had complained about her presence on the countertop. But she lived in the house, too, so why wouldn’t she be entitled to it? It’s not like she was tall enough to linger on the floor all the time.

He held up a wrist and checked his watch. It was two in the morning- it was time for bed. Tomorrow was…

Ugh. Tomorrow.

Gavin had been roped into the cruellest of performances. Only a week ago Fowler had trapped him in his office and informed him on how he had been signed up for a trial run by CyberLife. He was to be given an android partner, a ‘state of the art prototype,’ one that would follow his every command and deliver any information he needed. The kicker was that it was a  _ voluntary _ experiment as stated by CyberLife themselves, yet Fowler had chosen him of all people and decided it was a necessary assignment. No backing out.

It had happened before. Hank Anderson, the fool, was thrusted into the same situation months before. A skinny looking android with quirked brows, quiet and unassuming. Gavin had only interacted with it once, and he had given it a righteous punch in the gut for its existence. He heard it got shot shortly after, ending the partnership as quickly as it began. He couldn’t help but wonder if Hank had done the deed himself.

Either way, Gavin was next on the chopping block. He wasn’t pleased, far from it, but at least he wouldn’t have to do mental math anymore with a super computer at his side. As he slipped under the covers and cushioned half his face in a feathery pillow, he let himself dream of kicking back his feet at his desk and letting the android sort through his files for him.

  
  


**\--*--**

  
  


“ _Unit_ **_#313 248 317_** _cleared for trial.”_

Connor pressed his back against the wall as Laomi straightened his tie and fixed his collar. She fawned over him like a mother hen, it was repulsive. He could only stand there and take it, but not without a remark. “I admire your attention to detail on a machine you’ll only see once a month.” His tone was cordial, even cheerful.

It turned out his programming allowed statements like that. When they contained no unnecessary words and ‘praised’ whoever he spoke with, it would let him skirt around the wall. It was the closest he could get to showing a  _ real _ opinion.

Laomi saw through to his meaning. “Be quiet.”

She was always so friendly with him, it was gratifying to get some kind of aggression out of her. He would be a fool to push his luck further, so obeyed the numbers in his brain and didn’t pursue another conversation. He was to leave his unit for the police department when the sun came up, taken to an autonomous vehicle by whichever guards were on the previous night shift.

He wasn’t allowed CyberLife’s file on Gavin, but Connor was able to gather some information from the internet. He was a detective on the force and had a salty expression in his ID photo. There was no record of affiliation with androids, though it wasn’t trivial information to put on a police detective’s profile. From his picture alone, it was safe to assume his reception wouldn’t be a welcoming one.

“ I knew you’d pass the physicals,” Laomi stepped back once his clothes were perfected. “Are you excited?”

“ Delighted,” Connor said. He felt the opposite.

The physical tests for an android were standard. It was to test limb function, problem solving and how quick of a reaction time they had. Connor aced all the tests, but it wasn’t something to write to home about… not that he would be able to. Only a defective android would fail. It was nothing more than an assurance you weren’t going to be cast out and scrapped for parts.

After Laomi left, Connor sat straight on the bed’s mattress. It would’ve been nice if they had given him a mirror, he thought. She could’ve snuck a clown nose on him for all he knew.


	2. Meet Your Match

The intrusive thrum of his phone against wood brought Gavin into the morning world. He blinked the blur from his eyes and wiggled himself out of the blankets that cocooned him, wriggling his arm out from the quilt to put a stop to the noise. He had two missed calls. The number wasn’t on his contact list, and it didn’t look like the number that usually called him about work. They had left a voicemail –

“ _Hey, Gav. It’s your dad. I wanted to –“_

Gavin closed the tab and rolled back onto his bed, placing a forearm across his forehead and frowning at the ceiling. Tendrils of light ran along the scar of his nose, blossoming forth a warmth that stung almost as badly as the open wound had. He scratched it absentmindedly as he counted each individual groove in the ceiling’s paint.

Delilah’s eyes were wide when he entered the kitchen, head stooped eagerly over her food bowl. A large portion of Gavin’s wage went into her biscuits, a brand he had caught sight of during one of her checkups. It was well worth the cost to see the way her coat glimmered and her nose shined a pretty pink. She didn’t pay him much mind once her food had been supplied, so he returned to his bedroom to get ready.

The only upside to androids was that walking to work was no longer a gamble. They patrolled most streets and if they weren’t there, a security drone was. Gavin had no doubt in his self-defence skills, but it was nice not to force eyes onto the back of his head. The air was easier to see and the cloaked figures rounding the corner looked more like rowdy teenagers than threats.

He made it to work with five minutes to spare. The office was in the ends of a hibernation with few workers at their desks and the only notable figure being Fowler in his office. Gavin glanced towards Anderson’s desk. Empty, as usual. He sighed. The file he needed overlooked would have to sit in the dust for another afternoon.

By the time he had reached his desk and settled down in his seat, Fowler had rounded out of his office like the badger he was, with steely eyes that commanded quiet on his arrival. “Your android arrived earlier than usual. Come with me.” His tone made it clear it wasn’t a suggestion. Gavin cast a forlorn glance to his terminal then tailed Fowler to the glass door, flighting up the steps and being greeted by…

The hairs on his neck bristled. He slammed the door behind him. “The hell? That’s _Anderson’s_ android!”

Fowler growled. “Mind the door for Christ’s sake!” He sunk into the seat behind his desk and gestured to the android in question. “I was hoping you’d give me time to _explain_ before you got yourself riled up. It’s the same model- RK800. CyberLife took the last one’s failure into consideration and improved on it.”

It was taller than him with a clean jacket and asymmetrical eyebrows. The last Gavin had seen of its face was a blue-stained skull with skin sloughing to the side, revealing a damaged frame as white as the walls of its creator’s tower. Seeing it human once more, meeting his eyes with a curious touch, was an existential experience he didn’t imagine he would be walking into.

“Hello, Gavin.” The android dipped its head towards him. Its clothes were well groomed and the only blemish on its face was light freckling, something you’d have to squint to notice. “It’s good to meet you. My name is Connor.”

Gavin pressed his back to the glass as if it was radiating something lethal. “Jesus, they even gave it the same name? Is this a joke or somethin’?”

“I got enough complaining from Anderson last time and I _certainly_ don’t need it from you,” Fowler said. He neatened a stack of paperwork and forced Gavin to silence with one of those ‘cut-the-bullshit’ glowers he was renowned for. Even Hank yielded to it. “I expect you’ll take good care of this one, and not do anything _rash_. One broken limb on it could cost us half our yearly funds. Understood?”

Gavin reluctantly nodded.

Fowler smiled. “It’s nice to have some obedience in this place.” He plucked a pen from its holder in front of him and made a shooing motion with his free hand. “You’ll spend the first few days getting used to it. Learn what it can do, what it can’t. Set boundaries for it.” Gavin was sure he saw the android’s lips quirk at that. “We’ll have a special case waiting at your desk by Friday.”

Friday? He had a whole five days to tow it around? Gavin’s mind ran with a list of possibilities. It was quite tall, he could use it to hang hats. Maybe it could wash his clothes or shine his shoes.

Fowler took a sharp breath and looked up from his desk. “Oh, I forgot to mention. It’ll be coming back to my office at the end of your shifts. CyberLife hasn’t permitted it for nightly use.”

Gavin hung his shoulders. That ruined ninety percent of his plans.

“You might consider asking Anderson about it, too. It should share most of the functions as the older model.”

Yeah, like that would happen. Anderson was saltier than a fish barrel with a short temper to match. He’d seen the expression he wore that day they rolled the android’s corpse in. Gavin wouldn’t touch that topic with a ten-foot pole. He turned his attention to the android, “Come on then, robot.” Like he had blown a whistle for a dog, it lingered close to him as they exited.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, Gavin held his hand up and turned to face it. “First thing’s first: your name’s gonna be a problem.”

It tilted its head and looked down at its shirt. The name ‘Connor’ flashed across it, and its temple cycled yellow when the name fizzled out. “Ah, I forgot how humans have odd name associations. It’s really quite admirable how you let trivial things such as arranged letters dictate your feelings. What name would _you_ prefer?”

So it was a _snarky_ one. Despite the uplifted tone and unassuming expression, Gavin had a front row seat to the undertones. He tapped it on the shoulder, directing it towards his desk. “You keep talkin’ like that and it’ll be _Jackass_.”

“Jackass.” Something in its metallic skull pinged, and its suit wore the name fresh. “Got it. You’re really quite creative.”

“You...” Was he supposed to laugh, or cower in fear of the moment Fowler saw it running around the office with a name like that? “You’re not serious, right? You’re not actually acceptin’ that?”

It feigned innocence. “You don’t like it?”

When they reached to desk, Gavin could already hear a feminine snicker behind him. Looking over his shoulder to his approaching demise then back to the simpering android in front of him, he had a feeling this was just one of many long, _long_ days.

**\--*--**

“ _I can’t hunt deviants if I’m compromised.”_

“ _I’m tainted.”_

“ _They tainted me.”_

“ _ **You** tainted me.”_

The crickets chirped a cruel song outside the bar. Hank slammed the glass against the counter and pressed his forehead to the cool surface. Opposite to him, running a clean rag along the rims of a shotglass, Jimmy joined his anguish with a sympathetic breath. He was a slim figure with braided hair and black-rimmed glasses.

“The robot messed you up bad, huh?”

Hank raised his head, crinkled eyes meeting Jimmy’s. He curled his lip in an ugly grin. “You can add it to the list.”

Jimmy smiled. “Hardships build character. Ain’t that what you told me?”

“That was for a _break-up_ , Jimmy, not a...” Hank trailed off, running calloused hands through his thick hair. It was knotted and greasy. When was the last time he brushed it, or washed it? When was the last time he had washed _himself?_ His hand drifted into the thick pockets of his jeans and he pulled out his wallet, sliding a bill to the tips of Jimmy’s fingers that rested on the counter. “I’m gonna go. It’s late.”

Jimmy pocketed the bill and pat him on the forearm. “Take care.”

“Nah, I’m planning on getting hit by the first car I see. Send Fowler a notice, will ya?”

It hadn’t rained for a few days, a testament to the moods Hank found himself in. Rain and some heavy metal would do well to soothe the ache in his chest. The drive home was quiet without the incessant chatter of that android, and it was hard to decide whether he should feel grateful or devastated. It had been such a short amount of time he had spent with it, yet it felt different from the others. Maybe it was programmed to be that way- like CyberLife themselves wanted to net him in, make him care.

Or maybe it was the dark brows that didn’t line up properly, the smile that bent too heavy to one side and the curl that refused to align with the rest of his hair. Maybe it was the freckles that dotted the slight arch of its nose or the faint creases in its forehead. All the features that reminded him a little too much of someone he’d cared for, and would continue to care for until the day he died.

He pulled up on the curb, halfway on the grass. It wasn’t like anyone would mind; it was his damn house. He slammed the door on his way into the bitter cold and fumbled with the keys in his hand as he locked his car and approached his front doorstep. What awaited him was enough to make the keys shimmy away from his skin and fall to the floor with a loud clink.

“What. The. Fuck.”

It was _right there_ … that _thing_. Only it had a whole face and its suit wasn’t putting the colour of its blood on display. Its hands were primly tucked behind its back and there was no indication it would be moving away from his front door anytime soon.

“It’s good to see you, Hank!” it said. Its voice didn’t have the same song to it _Hank’s_ android had. No, it was chock full of false cheer and exaggerated speech. “I’ve come to apologise on behalf of CyberLife.”

Hank tightened his lips and bent down to retrieve his keys. He winced as his back cracked and his knees creaked. When he righted himself, it was still there, watching him expectantly. “Tell CyberLife I don’t want their fuckin’ apology. Now get out of my way.”

It turned its head to his door. “My mistake. It’s awfully impolite to stop you from going in, isn’t it?” One hand snaked away from behind it and rose in the air, tossing around a thin set of keys. Its eyes were coy. “We should talk about this inside.”

It wasn’t quite anger that pumped through his blood, rather a cold chill of dread that this android had access to _his_ home. CyberLife had printed _his_ housekey and wrapped it around the finger of this clone. It was illegal, it was immoral, and Hank knew very well he couldn’t breathe a word against a business giant like them. Between the harsh air that iced the tip of his nose, the dangerous gleams of the stars and the spotlight that faced him, Hank made his move and snatched the keys from its hand.

They’d only give it new ones. He could be sure of that. But tonight? He didn’t want a part of it.

“I suggest you go back to your little _hobbit hole_ and tell whoever sent you to shove their apology up their ass.” Hank dug his fingers into the side of its shoulder and shoved it aside. There was something satisfying about the way it bent forward, helpless to his strength, stumbling onto his grass. “You come back again, I won’t be so forgiving.”

The android steadied itself and straightened its tie. Dusting off its shoulder and fixing the creases, it smiled at him. “I deserved that, didn’t I?” There was a sense of irritation with those words. Like it knew it didn’t. “Very well. I won’t come here again.”

Hank was halfway through the door when it finished speaking. He couldn’t help but look back at it, even if it were just briefly. It left calmly, meandering down the street like a relic without a home.

Sumo was waiting for him inside, whining and pawing at his pants. He’d gotten excited, Hank could tell. Androids probably smelled the same across the board, it would’ve been easy to recognise the scent. It would’ve been easy to think it were the friend he’d met only a few months prior. Hank gave him some firm pats on the side and pulled him away from its false allure.


End file.
